The embers of the fire were fading, and Meera lacked the strength to find more fuel. For three days since her exile, she had walked, her feet raw and broken, her frame weakened by starvation and weariness. The simple cloak she was permitted was a poor defense against the autumn chill, and she knew that without shelter, she would not see another dawn.

But there was only the vast, unforgiving forest stretching out in all directions. She had settled in a small clearing, coaxing a miserable flame from damp kindling, and leaned her back against a fallen tree, awaiting her fate. Perhaps wolves, or a bear, or simply the cold would claim her, seeping into her bones until she slept forever.

 That in felt like a kindness compared to the existence she had fled. Meera shut her eyes, the rejection ceremony replaying in her mind. She had anticipated it. everyone had. From the day she presented as a black omega at 16, it was obvious something was profoundly different about her.

 She was unable to shift deaf to the hum of pack bonds and blind to the presence of other wolves unless they stood right before her. The pax healers had deemed her defective, a source of shame for her family line. Her parents had been lost in a border skirmish when she was 12. She could still hear her father’s final shout, urging her mother to flee with Meera and her younger sister, Emma.

 But her mother wouldn’t abandon him, and they fell together, defending their territory. Afterward, Meera and Emma were raised by the pack, a duty fulfilled without affection. The other wolves barely tolerated them, a sentiment that hardened after Meera’s supposed flaws became apparent. Emma had been the fortunate one, presenting as a typical omega, shifting with ease and being paired with a beta from a nearby pack.

 She had departed two years prior, and Meera had received no word since. Emma had made it plain that a flawed sister was a liability to her new standing. When Meera reached 21, the age from mating, her designated partner had spurned her before the entire Silverpine Pack. Garrett, a respected beta, had stared at her with contempt as he uttered the formal dismissal.

 He called her broken, a waste of the pack, incapable of bearing strong offspring, and unworthy of their name. The rejection itself, was a dull ache. She had never felt a true mate bond with Garrett, only a hollow sense of duty. The banishment that followed, however, was swift and cruel. Given an hour to collect her things, forbidden any farewells, she was marched to the border by guards who promised death if she ever returned.

 So she found herself here, awaiting death in the wilderness with only a flickering fire for company. The wind rose, scattering sparks into the night. Meera clutched her cloak, trying to ignore the ache of hunger. Barry she’d eaten earlier had only made her ill, a harsh lesson in her utter lack of survival skills. Her demise was certain.

It was just a matter of when. A twig cracked in the oppressive dark. Meera’s eyes shot open, her heart hammering. She peered into the shadows beyond her small circle of light. Another crack near this time, followed by the deliberate tread of paws on dry leaves. They had arrived. She remained still, knowing it was feudal to run.

 Too weak to fight a predator, too vulnerable to escape, a silverpine patrol sent to ensure her exile was permanent, she simply sat and watched the darkness. The first wolf stepped out of the trees, moving with a slow caution. Its eyes, golden and intelligent, caught the fire light. It was immense, nearly double the size of a pack shifter, with a coat of dark gray fur and a scarred muzzle.

 A wild wolf, then not one her kind. Meera recalled tales of the ancient pure-blooded wolves of the deep forest who had never adopted human form. They were known to be fiercely territorial and hostile to shifters. Yet this one did not attack. It stood at the clearing’s edge, head low, observing her with an unnerving focus.

 Then, astonishingly, it moved forward and laid down between her and the woods as if standing guard. Meera stared, bewildered. Wild wolves did not act this way. They avoided fire and strangers, and they certainly did not adopt a protective stance. Before she could comprehend it, a second wolf appeared, its fur a pale silver. It glanced at the first wolf, then at her before calmly settling on the opposite side of the fire, mirroring the first.

 A third followed, then a fourth, until a silent procession had emerged from the shadows. One by one, they took up positions, forming a ring around the clearing. In stunned silence, she counted 20 of them. 20 enormous wild wolves now lying in a protective circle around her. Their eyes like a constellation in the gloom.

 The sight should have been horrifying. Yet, instead of fear, Meera felt a profound sense of security and warmth she hadn’t known in years. It was as if these wild creatures had judged her worthy of their protection. One of the wolves, a large male with a prominent white blaze on his chest, rose and patted toward her.

 Meera held her breath as he approached, stopping so close she could feel the heat from his body. He lowered his massive head, his nose level with her face, and they regarded each other for a long moment. Then, gently, the wolf pressed his forehead to hers. An indescribable sensation washed over her. It was not the packed bond she had heard others describe.

 It was something far more ancient and primal. She felt the wolf’s emotions, curiosity, recognition, and an unshakable certainty that she belonged with them. Beneath it all, a single word resonated in her mind in a voice that was neither animal nor human. Sister, the wolf stepped back to his place in the circle.

 The others settled, some watching the forest, others resting their heads on their paws. Meera sat trembling, trying to grasp what had just occurred. She was a wolf speaker. The truth struck her with the force of a physical blow. Her grandmother, the pax keeper of legends before her parents’ death, used to whisper tales of rare individuals who could communicate with true wolves who were revered by ancient packs as blessed by the moon goddess.

But her grandmother’s heart had broken after losing her son, and the stories had faded with her. Meera had always dismissed them as myths. But it was real. She could feel them now. All 20 wolves, their thoughts and feelings brushing against her consciousness. They hadn’t found her by chance. They had sensed her, recognized her for what she was, and come to her aid.

 Because that is what wolves do. They protect their own. Tears traced pads down her cheeks. For the first time in her miserable life, she felt she belonged. Not with the shifters who had cast her out, but here with these magnificent creatures who had accepted her unconditionally. She slept that night encircled by wolves, safer and warmer than she had ever been in the Silver Pine Pack.

 When she awoke, they were still there. The male with a white chest approached her again, and this time she reached out, her fingers sinking into his thick coat. He leaned into her touch, a deep rumble vibrating in his chest. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For protecting me,” his amber eyes met hers, and she felt his reply, not in words, but in pure meaning.

 “Asterisk your pack, we stay star.” In the days that followed, a rhythm formed. The wolves hunted, sharing their kills, and teaching her how to survive. She learned about edible plants, clean water sources, and how to construct a durable shelter. She named the large male storm, the silver female Luna, and a scarred black wolf who kept watch at night shadow.

 One by one, she came to know them all. Frost, the wise elder. Ember, the fierce protector. River, who brought her fish. They were not beasts, but complex individuals, and they treated her not as a weak omega, but as family. Three weeks passed. Meera grew strong. Her body nourished and her senses sharpening.

 Being with the wolves was awakening something dormant within her. She still couldn’t shift, but she could feel the forest’s lifeblood. Sense creatures moving through the trees. She was becoming who she was always meant to be. Everything changed on a crisp morning when the ground was white with frost.

 Meera was by the fire when storm suddenly stood, his body tensed. Instantly, the other wolves formed a defensive line. Someone was approaching from the south. She rose, her heart quickening. Through her bond, she felt their readiness to fight, but also a flicker of recognition. A man stepped out of the woods. He was tall and broad with dark hair and golden eyes that shone in the light. He was an alpha.

 She could feel the power rolling off him. He stopped at the edge of the clearing, his gaze taking in the wolves before settling on her. He stared for a long moment, then he bowed his head. “Forgive my intrusion,” he said, his voice deep and controlled. “My name is Darius. I am the alpha of the Ironwood Pack.

 I have been looking for you for a very long time.” Meera considered his words. A long search implied he knew what he was seeking. You knew about wolf speakers, she stated. I did, Darius confirmed. You are not nobody, Meera. You are one of the rarest gifts the moon goddess bestows. If the whispers are true, you are the first to appear in a century.

 He took a step forward and Storm let out a low growl. Darius halted, raising his hands peacefully. I mean her no harm, he said to the wolf. I have come to offer protection and answers. Answers to what? She asked to why you could never shift. Why you felt no connection to your pack? Wolf speakers do not shift because their gift is to walk between worlds.

 You are a bridge. Your former pack cast you out from ignorance. But I understand. Her throat tightened. All her life she had been called broken. And now this stranger was telling her she was precious. But she had learned to be weary. What do you want from me? I want to offer you a place in my pack. He said, not as an omega, but as a wolf speaker, someone who can help us reconnect with the old ways.

 You would be honored among us, protected and free. It sounded too perfect. And what is your gain? Darius offered a small smile, a stronger pack. Wild wolves are powerful allies. But more than that, I would have a satisfaction of seeing a rare gift nurtured instead of destroyed. Storm moved to her side, pressing against her leg.

 Through their bond, she felt his assessment. The alpha was sincere. The choice was hers. She looked at her wolves at the life she had built. She could stay here, wild and free. Or she could take a risk on this alpha. If I go with you, she said slowly. The wolves come too. They’re my pack now. Agreed, Darius said without hesitation.

 There is unclaimed territory adjacent to ours. We can establish it as a sanctuary under your protection. It was more than she could have hoped for, but she needed more than words. Prove it, she said. Swear an oath to the moon goddess that you will never force me to be what I am not, and that you will protect my wolves as you would your own.

 Darius’s expression grew solemn. He dropped to one knee, his hand over his heart. I, Darius of the Ironwood Pack, swear by the moon goddess that I will honor Meera, the wolf speaker. I will protect the wild wolves under her care as I would my own blood. May the goddess strike me down if I break this oath. The air around him seemed to hum with power.

The oath was real and binding. Slowly, she nodded. Then I accept your offer, Alphadarius. But know this, if you betray us, I will leave and I will take every wild wolf in this forest with me. I would expect nothing less, he said, rising. There was deep respect in his eyes. Km, let’s go home. The journey to Ironwood took two days.

 Meera rode a horse Darius had brought her wolves loping alongside. He had come prepared, confident she would agree. He told her his grandmother, Elena, had been the last known wolf speaker. She had died long ago, but her legend had shaped his life. She taught that shifters and wild wolves were meant to work together, he explained.

 When his father died, Darius became alpha and began searching the old records, which led him to Mera’s grandmother’s line and eventually to a black omega in silverpine who could not shift. I have been waiting. Darius corrected when she asked if he’d been watching her. When I heard of your banishment, I came at once. I just did not expect to find you had already awakened your gift.

 When they arrived at Ironwood, Meera was astounded. It was a village built in harmony with the forest with homes nestled in the boughs of great oaks connected by walkways. The pack members who greeted them were not fearful of her wolves, but bowed respectfully. Darius declared her and her companions under his personal protection.

 He led her to a beautiful dwelling of her own. As her wolves settled in, he turned to her. “There is something else I must tell you. Something I held back so as not to influence your choice.” “Mera turned now, curious instead of wary. I am unmated,” he said carefully. “And when I saw you in that clearing, surrounded by wolves who would die for you, I felt the pole of a mate bond.” Her breath caught.

“That’s impossible. I was rejected.” “You were rejected by someone who is never your true mate.” Darius said, “The goddess does not make mistakes. I believe I am meant for you.” He stepped closer and she felt it. A tentative warmth, an undeniable connection, fiery and true in a way she had never known. “I’m not asking you to accept it now,” he said quickly. “Only for time.

 Time for you to heal and to decide if this is what you want. But I needed you to know my search was not just about duty. It was destiny. Overwhelmed. Meera knew she did not have to decide at once. She could take her time. Grow into this new life. I need time, she said finally. But I’m not saying no.

 Let me become the wolf speaker I was meant to be. Darius smiled, his relief genuine. Take all the time you need. I will be here in the months that followed. Meera thrived. She established the sanctuary Darius promised and became a haven for wild wolves from all over the region. She learned the ancient songs and rituals from an elder named Vera, a friend of Darius’s grandmother.

 Vera revealed that Meera’s own grandmother had known the songs and sung them to her as lullabies, embedding the knowledge deep within her. The realization moved Meera to tears, understanding the love and foresight her grandmother had shown. She also discovered her gift extended to shifters, allowing her to sense and help heal their emotional wounds.

 She became a counselor, a healer of hearts, her purpose deepening with each soul she helped. All the while, Darius courted her with patience and respect. He brought her books, trained with her, and shared his hopes and fears. He never pressured her. And slowly, Meera found herself falling in love with the man, not just the maid bond.

 He was a leader who saw her gift as a thing of beauty, not a flaw. One evening, as the first snow of winter fell, she was in the sanctuary when the mate Bond pulsed with intensity. Darius stood at the edge of the clearing. It has been 1 year since I found you, he said softly. Watching you grow into your power has been the greatest privilege of my life.

 Something shifted inside her. She had been waiting, telling herself she needed more time. But looking at the man who had given her a home, she knew the truth. She was ready. I’m certain, she said, moving toward him. I want this. I want you. Not because destiny demands it, but because I choose it. Because I love you. He closed the distance between them, his kiss filled with a year of pentup longing.

 “I love you, Meera,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “The woman who survived and became magnificent. Around them, her wolves began to howl, a chorus of celebration. The mating ceremony was held two weeks later under the winter solstice moon. Shifters and wild wolves stood together as Meera and Darius exchanged vows, promising to build a pack that honored all its members, wild and shifter alike.

 When he marked her, the bond between them blazed into a permanent perfect star in her soul. She was no longer a rejected omega. She was a wolf speaker, a Luna, a bridge between worlds. Years later, when young wolves feeling broken or different came to her, Lunamera would take them to the sanctuary.

 She would tell them her story. The rejection, the banishment, and the 20 wolves who saw her value when her own pack could not. “Your pack does not define your worth,” she would say. The words she had once so desperately needed to hear. “Sometimes the greatest gifts come in forms others do not understand. Trust in yourself.

 Your true pack is waiting. You just have to survive long enough to meet them. And as she watched hope rekindle in their eyes, Mirren knew she had fulfilled her purpose. She had become the person she once needed. A speaker not just for wolves, but for all lost souls seeking their way